Monday, October 9, 2006

Listening to silence

I haven’t been able to blog in days.

It’s not because there’s been too much else to do on a holiday weekend (Canadian Thanksgiving.) There’s always too much else to do: blogging is usually my break from that ‘too much else.’ And it’s not because I haven’t anything to say: there are a zillion things racing through my mind, all of which are screaming to be worked out in writing.

I just feel stuck, and uninspired, and blah, and maybe just a little bit low. I haven’t been able to shake the rougher edges of this cold or flu or whatever viral thing it is that I’ve been labouring under for going on three weeks now. And I’ve been having too many moments of quiet bluesy lowness, not quite sad, not quite not-sad. Just, low. The low of rainy days and slow melodies on trombone and falling leaves and gray sky and the earthy, musty smell of summer in decay. The low of fall, when the dark and the chill come too fast, when even the brightness of the crispest and brightest of days has a sort of stark, mournful edge. I've been feeling low, in that way. Morose.

And stuck. Every time that I sit down at the keyboard, head crowded with ideas, my fingers freeze. The words won’t come. I type a sentence, and then almost immediately backspace and delete. It doesn’t sound right, doesn’t flow, doesn’t cohere. The ideas are there, the thoughts are there, but they just won’t work themselves out into words.

So I stop. I close the screen and flip the laptop closed and walk away. This was the deal that I made with myself some time ago – I would never force myself to write. I would only write for the joy of it, or for the release, or for solace. I would only write when it suited me.

I don’t why, exactly, it hasn’t been suiting me these past few days. I have ideas – about feeling low, about the blues, about the existential glum that autumn can impose after the brisk optimism of September has passed. About coming up on a year of motherhood, about my child leaving the first blush of her babyhood behind. About the torrent of ideas that constantly swirls in my brain, soaking it to a heaviness that sometimes feels beyond my capacity to bear. About feeling, sometimes, that my reach exceeds my grasp.

About feeling, maybe, just a little bit tired. It’s been a busy year. Lots of heavy lifting. A lot of joy and wonder and excitement, too, of course, but joy can also exact a toll. Life can sometimes just take it out of you, and no amount of exercise and vitamins can put it back.

So I had to take a short break from blogging, a few days of laying low. And I might be slow in getting back up to speed in the coming days – I’ll likely be doing more reading than commenting, and it might be a few days between posts – but I’ll just be doing what I can to coax the muse out of hiding and to orient myself to a new season of motherhood and writerhood and life.

50 Comments:

I think it's a good thing you're doing, stepping back a little when you need to.

And that last photo? I was thinking the other day about how Wonderbaby seems to represent essence-of-baby to me - her eyes are bigger, her cheeks are rounder, her head is (was) balder - in every baby way, your daughter is just baby-er. In the more recent photos, she's getting to look more like her own person, individualized. But those clapping hands, that joyous face? I see a glimpse there of essence-of-childhood. What a wonderful thing.

This is what I was trying to say the other day. This, in all its eloquence and beauty, said exactly what mine said. Except you said it better than my "Oh, blah... I'm all crazy... blah.... icky.... what's wrong with me?!"

Sooo much better. And with cute babes in hats. How could I have forgotten to add a baby in a hat???

and i think a lot of people are feeling a bit blue..it's colder, it's darker, and the holidays bring up weirdness for a lot of us.

That said, you always have something to say, even when you don't think you do - I walk away touched every single time...whether it's from the learning, the knowing, or just simply being true in this moment, to yourself.

This is a tough time of year in our family - lots going on, everything feels overwhelming, there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. But I hear more people saying the same things, and I'm thinking, maybe there's something universal to this problem.

sorry you're in a funk. the tone reminds me of William Carlos William's poem "These." When I feel like that I read this (well, either this or Eliot's "Love Song of J Alfred Proofrock") and start to come back up

These

are the desolate, dark weekswhen nature in its barrennessequals the stupidity of man.

The year plunges into nightand the heart plungeslower than night

to an empty, windswept placewithout sun, stars or moonbut a peculiar light as of thought

that spins a dark fire --whirling upon itself until,in the cold, it kindles

to make a man aware of nothingthat he knows, not lonelinessitself -- Not a ghost but

would be embraced -- emptinessdespair -- (They whine and whistle) among

the flashes and booms of war;houses of whose roomsthe cold is greater than can be thought,

the people gone that we loved,the beds lying empty, the couchesdamp, the chairs unused --

Hide it away somewhereout of mind, let it get to rootsand grow, unrelated to jealous

ears and eyes -- for itself.In this mine they come to dig -- all.Is this the counterfoil to sweetest

music? The source of poetry thatseeing the clock stopped, says,The clock has stopped

that ticked yesterday so well?and hears the sound of lakewatersplashing -- that is now stone.

It's funny, but even when you have nothing to write about, it is still more eloquent and well said than anything I ever post. It's okay to take a break. We all understand. But I am glad you told us why, because I was beginning to wonder about you.

And yes, hats are a special kind of joy, especially on adorable babies.

Well, then, thank goodness for pictures! But, HBM, your words are so beautiful. Even when they're words about how the words won't come. This was a beautiful post that captured moroseness with perfection! I thought I was the only one that felt moroseness in that exact way....I thought it was just me. It's comforting to know that it's not.

Whenever I have a block, I just remind myself to "enjoy." An art history professor once told me that. I came to him freaking about an upcoming essay, and he said, "Haley, don't worry so much. Just enjoy." It's my cure for writer's block. You got tons of ideas swirling in your mind...forget about it. Let them go (well, write them down for later, for when you have energy to pursue them), and write something light and enjoyable for you. Look at me, giving out advice. I hope you don't mind. It just works for me....So, thought I'd share....

Seems lots of us are feeling this way lately. Of course, not all of us have that oh-my-god-I-could-just-die-it's-so-cute picture of WonderBaby to flash instead of words! You can just hear the stream of shrieky, gurgly baby laughter coming out of that little mouth and the near-silent clap of tiny baby hands. Love it.

Hey- we all go through this from time to time. At least you are able to write about it! I'm still in bloggers pergatory and trying to dig my way out, in other words- too depressed and occupied to blog... for now. It happens.

I was feeling the same way last week.not really down, but not really up either.Of course, you put it much more eloquently than that.But after a few really long walks shuffling through the fall leaves, I felt much better.well that and stuffing myself with pumpkin pie...I hope you are feeling better soon.oh and wonderbaby could brighten anyone's day, especially while sporting that hat.too cute.

People don't listen enough. Funny, I just vented about parents who don't listen to their kids and therefore suck at parenting. (I'm always reminded about a book that stood out on my parents' bookself: "How to talk so kids will listen. How to listen so kids will talk." Anyway, it's a striking title. I nearly didn't read the article (but I did) just because it satisfied me so after my vent: http://blog.ventbox.com/2006/10/10/bad-parents-piss-me-off/

I know the feeling. Sometimes I feel like I have so much to say I don't even know where to begin, and I can't...let alone find a few quiet alone minutes. And I'm not even talking 'deep thoughts' on my end...just a few things that have occurred to me, or tortured the household in recent days. Sigh.

Your pictures say a lot in their own right, though, and these two are brilliant. Fall IS a season for hats. This one is great; and I love the look of utter joy on Wonderbaby's face!

I'm fortunate in that this time of year is perfection for me, I'm alway at my happiest and most energetic in the fall. Come January, I'll be feeling the same way many of you are describing feeling now.

I know what you mean about that torrent of ideas. Seems like only sleep and time will unravel them enough to actually turn them into something other than a pipe dream. You're a good writer. This will sort itself out eventually. Do what my dad tells me to do and just "fugeddaboudit".

Well, I'll miss you while you regroup, but will have comforting thought of you taking care of yourself. That first year is rough and I think one of the biggest reasons is because we forget we are human and need rest and solitude. Besides, these photos are just lovely! The hat is rocking to say the least. And that face!!!!!!!!

Not to make light of what you are feeling, but while reading this post, all I could think of was Charile Brown, that specific melancoly the music and images of Charlie Brown embodies.

Its a Charlie Brown mood. An autumn mood. There are only a few short months until we close this year, we're coming up on a finish - the fatigue of that can set in. Add to that, you are coming up on the close to a different kind of year with Wonderbaby's birthday. Maybe the bitter sweet reflection has begun.